Good At His Job
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: Brendan has his eye on Ste's old uniform and things get heated when the pair of them talk about their past passion at work.


**Good At His Job**

Ste entered the bedroom, arms stacked high with clothes ready for the washing machine. They'd fallen into this unspoken pattern of routine, him and Brendan, one that Ste daren't think about too much, as though it would break this dreamlike spell that had taken over his life the last month. Ste did the washing, Brendan did the ironing. He was very particular about the creases and the folds. After Brendan had given him a strict lesson on how he liked it done – all stern impatient words and Ste with his tongue-out, letting himself be manhandled, Brendan's grip on his wrist – he'd given up and taken to ironing for all of them. All of four of them. It was becoming quite a pleasure to watch Brendan stack steamed neat clothes in a pile, as he stood in various states of undress.

"This ain't the Brendan Brady Show, y'know," he'd said one day, full of his usually dryness, as he stood, shirt off, gym joggers riding especially low and pubic hair threatening to spill over the top as he ironed and folded the household's washing.

"Just enjoying the view, in't I?" Ste had replied, foot up on the sofa and knee tucked under his chin.

"Precisely my point. It's not pay-per-view."

"What if I texted in, right, and asked for you ironing in the nude?" Ste asked, face lit up with the widest of smiles.

"You have some interesting perversions young Steven," he said, releasing a burst of steam from the iron.

"Didn't hear you complaining last night, did I?"

x

Brendan was getting ready for a late shift at the club, wardrobe opened for him to select the suit to exchange for his casuals. When Ste breezed in, singing tunelessly under his breath, Brendan cleared his throat and began digging through the coat-hangers, scraping them along the rail through his indecision.

"Oh yeah," Ste said, reaching down his side of the bed for some abandoned dirty clothes, "What's that look for?"

"What look?" Brendan said, pulling a blue shirt from under a jacket and tossing it onto the bed.

"Like I caught you doing sommit you shouldn't." Ste had that knowing look in his eyes. "You've got that twitch."

"What twitch?"

"You know," Ste said, doing an impression by rolling his neck and morphing his face into something a little more serious and snarled.

And then he spotted it, the black sleeve jutting out from where it had been stored away at the back of the wardrobe for a year. Perhaps more like months, as the tug and pull of indecision of whether to bin it (or set fire to it) or cling to its pain and pleasure filled memories, had meant he'd been through a cycle of taking it out and burying back inside the wardrobe again.

Ste dumped the laundry on the bed, side stepping Brendan and jamming his hand through the hangers to pull out his Chez Chez uniform.

"This what you were after?" Ste said, looking at him with curved eyebrows in the middle. He held it up against himself.

"No I was…"

"You were," Ste said flatly, they were beyond the bullshit. "You don't get enough of looking at it when you're at work?" He gave him a glance, full of playful jealousy. "Your barmen,"

Brendan's palm pushed against the t-shirt until it pressed against Ste's body. "It's not about the uniform," he smoothed out the material over Ste's torso and Ste's gaze travelled down, "Or the barmen. It's about one very particular _ex-_barman."

"Oh yeah," Ste said, his mouth slightly parted now, looking at Brendan through his lashes. "And what was he like, this _ex-_barman of yours?"

An indulgent smile tugged at the corners of Brendan's lips but he didn't allow it. His nostrils flared as he closed the gap between him and Ste, so their proximity was uncomfortably close. His words were more hot breath than sound. "Mouthy,"

"Yeah?" The mild insult was lost, Ste's eyes glazed over with lust.

"Yeah. A real mouth on him." Brendan said, eyes fixated on that very mouth, lips wet and quivering in the middle. "Receptive," – and noticing Ste's lack of comprehension, he continued, "Willing. Obedient…Submissive." He lingered each word on his tongue, watching as Ste's eyes followed his every moment.

"What else?" Ste asked. The words caught in his throat and with the bob of his Adam's Apple, Brendan's eyes followed.

"Put it on," Brendan said, fingering the black fabric, "It'll jog the memories."

Entranced, Ste pulled off the polo shirt over his head and dressed in his old uniform t-shirt. It was more snug than before, he'd filled out and toned up and it showed on Brendan's face as he growled a little, tilting his head to the side when he ran his hands up Ste's body.

"Yeah?" Ste said encouragingly.

"Flexible," Brendan said, making Ste's breathing hitch up a level.

Ste played along, fingers twirling the drawstrings of his tracksuit bottoms. "And he were good at his job?"

Brendan hummed a low laugh. "Oh yeah. The best. Dedicated. Every job in hand." His thumbs pawed over Ste's nipples through the material. Brendan was breathing him in now, all hair product and an echo of mustiness from the old uniform. "And he had a big appetite…for overtime,"

Ste felt an unconscious groan escape him and leant further into Brendan's space, the heat of their groins moments apart.

"And you wanna know what we did?" Brendan said, lowering his mouth to Ste's ear. His eyes were bright, his mouth a dark, thin curve of fire.

"Uh," Ste said, almost wordless. He gave a nod, his tongue hanging limply behind his bottom lip.

The soft hairs of his moustache, brushed against Ste's lobe, then along his jaw until his lips were almost touching Ste's.

"Everything," he said finally. "Everywhere."

His mouth was on him immediately, tearing him open and tongue merciless against his. Brendan pulled the weight of Ste against him, their bodies colliding in a furious clutching of flesh and heat. When Ste jerked his head away in a passionate fight for air, Brendan's lips sought his neck, burying deep into its crook. As his teeth scraped, Ste's fingernails ran through his hair, grinding against persistent motion of Brendan's sculpting up the flank of him.

As they broke apart, Brendan threw him down on the bed with a force to the shoulders that would have been painful were it not for the cushioned landing. When Brendan mounted him, unzipping and nudging for a place between Ste's thighs, he was kissing Ste through the Chez Chez shirt, dampening the fabric and reliving fantasies and memories all at once.

His underwear was already warm with pre-cum when Brendan tugged them down and Ste looked smugly at him, propped up on his elbows with teeth sucking in his bottom lip, cock hard against his belly. Brendan had his knees in his grip and he pulled him forward, his mouth twisting in pleasure as Ste had his legs hooked across his back in no time at all.

"Flexible," Ste echoed, shuddering a little as Brendan's hands slid over his lower back and took hold of his arse. And proving his point, Ste angled his pelvis and stretched out his arms above his head. He sighed and moaned wantonly, seducing Brendan with his false innocence.

Under his breath, Brendan murmured a _fuck_ and he had the shirt pushed above Ste's nipples to lick him over.

Ste's head drooped to the side, but Brendan turned it back to face him.

"Get the stuff," Ste said, toes curling behind Brendan's spine.

In the minute it took for Brendan to get the lube and finish undressing, Ste had pulled his t-shirt back down and was watching Brendan eagerly, with sparkling eyes, his tongue wetting his lips. They broke from the intensity of their roles and smiled at each other.

Brendan climbed onto him and lubing two fingers, he eased inside Ste. "I'm gonna work you hard boy."

He took Ste's hips in hand, angling him perfectly before pressing his weight into the bed with an outstretched arm and entered him, groaning at Ste's bright-eyed ecstasy. He was blissed on the noises Ste made, the lost expressions of youth and abandon on his face, the way his eyes rolled and mouth arched wide.

Ste's fingers dug into his back and left white prints of possession all over his skin. He lifted his head and began biting at Brendan's slack-jacked mouth, curling his tongue up and over his moustache. He knew how to work and grid and wind his hips until Brendan was a quivering, mess of a man and he was doing just that. And just to add to Brendan's unrelenting crescendo of pleasure, Ste looked at him, boyish and flirtatious, like he was an idol.

Pining Ste's arms above his head, Brendan pressed his mouth against Ste's skin and groping for the flesh of Ste's arse, Brendan began pounding into him, each time holding back a guttural howl behind his teeth and focusing on the escalation of Ste's moans.

But he made sure he came first, wanting to savour every second of Ste's orgasm, out of the headiness of his own frenzy and when Ste, wanting to climax together, reached to jerk himself off, Brendan snatched his hand away, making him wait.

Flushed and needy, Ste pleaded with him, but could only lay sprawled, fixated on the man inside him, caressing his thighs. With the bedsheets clawed in his fingers, Ste whimpered as Brendan finally began pumping his cock. Brendan studied him with wonder, watching every flicker and muscle tremble on Ste's face, even though his own heart still hammered on the comedown, Ste was his sole focus.

He felt a lurch of arousal inside, as Ste shuddered, cum shooting thick over his old uniform. Brendan spread his fingers into it, bunching the material into it and revelling in their shared deviance, he grinned at Ste.

Breathless, Ste shook his head at him. "Suppose I'll be chucking this then." He flinched a little as Brendan withdrew from him and laid out beside him.

"No. Stick it in the wash," he said, toying with Ste's sweat-flattened hair. "It's not like you haven't cum over it before,"

Ste coloured and pulled a face, "Don't!" He tutted. And then when a brief spout of shyness subsided he added. "Anyway, right, so 'ave you."

"Hmm," he said in agreement, opening his arm for Ste to slide up against him.

He stroked at Brendan's chest hair. "We've got it even better now, ain't we?"

Brendan smiled. "Yeah. This is the living, Steven."


End file.
